


The Sky Fell Down

by LunarMoonSz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Art Student Louis Tomlinson, Art Student Zayn Malik, Artist Zayn Malik, Badass Gemma, But one hell of a producer in future, But they're all students for a long time, Closeted Character, Closeted Louis, F/M, Famous Harry, Famous Louis Tomlinson, Fashion Designer Louis Tomlinson, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gemma is one protective sis, Growing Up, Harry and Louis gonna be so famous, He doesn't realise shit, High School Student Harry Styles, Humor, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Just kidding he's a good guy, Liam is David Beckham on the field, Louis and Zayn being so talented is what I live for, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Niall's so good at writing that it hurts, Pining, Producer Liam Payne, Sappy, Singer-Songwriter Harry Styles, Slow Burn, Student Harry Styles, Student Liam Payne, Student Louis Tomlinson, Student Niall Horan, Student Zayn Malik, There are gonna be tears, What Have I Done, Why Harry likes him? I dunno, Writer Niall Horan, but so is Harry, just confused, lots of them - Freeform, louis is an idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarMoonSz/pseuds/LunarMoonSz
Summary: When Harry's family moved from Holmes Chapel to London because of his father's job, Harry thought that his world has truly gone upside down.Little did he know, that his definition of ‘Going upside down’ was quite flawed; He didn't know his world could shake even more. Much more.And Harry regretted not correcting the definition in his head the moment he stepped into his new school: Where Zayn Malik smirked silently, Liam Payne never caught up fast enough, and Niall Horan seemed oddly aware of whatever he wasn't supposed to be aware of.And there was this boy who sent flashes through Harry's nerves everytime he blinked his deep blue eyes.ORThat one fic where everything is a mess and the only sane people are Niall and Ed, oddly enough.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 42
Kudos: 29





	1. London's Quite Big

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be updated less often than my other fic. Even if the idea for this is older, I didn't really have a solid storyline for this, just notes and scenes here and there. More like a little bit of small fantasies about a high school/college Larry, where they can possibly be the biggest teen power couple that they are.
> 
> In this story, all the boys are kinda famous, In the future, but as you can see in the tags, they were never put in a band in this universe. Actually, they were lucky and none of them ever met Simon Cowell. Cheers.
> 
> Still, Louis is in a closet and in a fake relationship because daddy is famous and we gotta keep grace. Of course, with all respect, the said daddy is fictional and rarely there, except for phone calls, because if he cared enough he wouldn't closet his son. Also, yes, we have Eleanor. But for the sake of my own sanity, she's a low-key wingman here.
> 
> This fic is a bit long. It starts where Harry is sixteen, and ends when he's probably twenty. I will try my best to make sure this doesn't get ridiculously long, but let's just say that I will need content for slow burn. You hear that? That's my evil laughter.
> 
> The story title is, of course, inspired by the masterpiece of a song that What A Feeling by One Direction is. But if there was a song that described this story well enough... It'd be Back To You by Louis Tomlinson ft. Bebe Rexha. Yes, yes, the pain is real.
> 
> Love you all, ML x

London was hectic.  
  
The moment Harry stepped in the airport of London, he was one hundred percent sure of that.  
  
London was busy; people running around, seeming like they're always on the run. Women and men and children, voices and sounds and people having dozens of different accents around him. Tourists running like chicken without head, children crying, people carrying three suitcases at the same time–  
  
Wait no, that's his mum.  
  
Figures, he gotta help her. Man of the house after his father and all, _even if_ Gemma is older.  
  
Where was Gemma anyway?  
  
Harry walked closer to his mum. "Do you need help, mum?"  
  
"No, Harry, I'm fine." She fixed her bag on her shoulder.  
  
Harry nodded, pressing his lips together. His fingers played with the hem of his shirt, and he looked around nervously.  
  
Anne looked at him with concern painted across het features. "Harry, dear, I'm so sorry about all of this. I know how difficult it all must be for you. I wish it wasn't like this, but–"  
  
"Mom no," Harry quickly protested. "It's not your fault, I'm okay. I'm just... badly out of my element here, is all."  
  
Anne solemnly nodded. Harry gave her a small smile.  
  
Everything was okay. Really. Harry wasn't that nervous. Of course, new places, new neighborhood, new house, new everything. Part of Harry didn't mind the change.  
  
What he _did_ mind, was school.  
  
His dad came back with his phone in one hand another bag in the other. "I think we're good. We can go now." He looked up from his phone. "Where's Gemma?"  
  
As if on quo, Gemma came running towards them, panting. "S-Sorry, I was... I really needed to have a wee. I thought you guys left. Almost wet myself all over again. But that's odd, I had nothing more to spare."  
  
Okay, see, everyone always thought that Harry was the weird sibling.  
  
They usually forgot that while being strange was a part of Harry, He also has learnt it from someone.  
  
Truth was, Gemma was weirder that them both combined, sometimes. Like right then.  
  
And Harry would be damned if he didn't play along. "Gemma, I think if you have just had a wee in the airplane, you wouldn't have been so worried about the whole thing."  
  
Gemma gave him a blank look, and Harry grinned.  
  
Anne shook her head, muttering ' _What have I done?_ ' under her breath with a smile.  
  
Robin cleared his throat. "Right, moving on from weeing and all the good stuff..." Gemma and Harry snickered. "We have to go."  
  
Soon enough, they were settled in a cab, driving from Heathrow towards Harry's new home.  
  
Harry put his chin in his palm, looking out the window, swallowing the scenery with his eyes. His mind however, was elsewhere.  
  
The only thing Harry was nervous about, was school. See, Harry was a bit of an awkward kid with weird habits, strange attitude, clumsy legs and a tongue that didn't really work on his favor. Thing was, back home, Harry was fine. He went to his childhood school, was friends with his childhood friends, who were used to how strange he was.  
  
He really didn't know about new friends. Not that he didn't like to make new friends. Oh no, he loved meeting new people. But despite his hardest efforts, part of him never stopped caring about what people would think about him.  
  
And another part that always wanted to make people pleased, comfortable, and happy.  
  
Did he mention he was soft?  
  
Right. He sucked in any and all athlete activities, because, _legs,_ has almost never picked fights, only one time he punched his classmate, Jimmy in the face when the called Ed names, then cried after he punched him (which... huh?), didn't swear much, not to mention that he caught himself looking at women clothing more than ten minutes when he was supposed to buy jeans the other day.  
  
He knew none of these made him... Flawed? If that was the right word? But he knew people usually wouldn't like whatever that went against the mainstream idea and stereotypes.  
  
And Harry was kinda all about that.  
  
His family, though, loved him and everything about him. He has never doubted that. Even Gemma who liked to mess with him, shut anyone and everyone up who said a bad word to or about Harry. Her defense always was 'Only I get to make fun of Harry'.  
  
She almost _never_ did.  
  
So he kinda didn't know how to act around new kids his age in his new school where he knew _absolutely no one._  
  
But it was also kinda wrong of him to keep judging the people he has never even met, so he shook his head to stop such thoughts.  
  
As they arrived to their destination, their _house,_ Harry jumped out of the car to breathe.  
  
The city around him was pulsing, alive, and Harry oddly wondered: _Could London feel him?_  
  
The air smelled a bit different, or that's how Harry felt. He thought whether the different air would change him or not.  
  
But for now, he had a place to make feel like home.  
  
He turned around and walked up the stairs, only to trip over his own feet and land on Gemma.  
  
London sighed.  
  
Somewhere else, somewhere a bit far away, a boy fell off the bed with a shrill scream.


	2. First Encounters Aren't Always The Best Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry meets weird people, in weird ways, and somehow seems to charm them all. In a weird way.

What woke Harry up a few mornings after they arrived, wasn't his alarm clock.

It was almost never his alarm clock.

It was his sister.

Meet Gemma Anne Styles; Harry's rock, mortal enemy, best support, huge weirdo, and the prettier, cooler, weirder, older, all things that ended in _‘-er’,_ and all in all, the better Styles.

Or that's what _she_ called herself.

(Harry would never admit it out loud, but she wasn't wrong.)

"Wake up Harry! Wake up you little giraffe! Wake up or I'll spill this entire glass of water over your greasy hair, so you'd be _forced_ to shower."

_What?_ Harry wasn't even greasy! He showered last night!

He opens one eye, and true to her word, Gemma is standing beside his bed with a glass of _freezing_ water in her hand, if the condensations on the glass are _anything_ to go by.

Harry jumps as Gemma raises the glass and shrieks. "NO! You can't do that! I showered last night and it's cold! What if I catch a cold?"

"Oh _baby brother,_ you won't catch a _cold,_ don't worry. And even if you do, it's your own fault for setting your alarm clock an hour earlier and waking me up _five_ _in the morning_ when you were sound asleep like a _bear!"_

With that, Gemma aims to splash the water across Harry's face. Harry jumps off the bed with a loud wail and runs out of the room.

Or, at least, he _tries_ to.

Except that, he goes face first into the door, and that prevents him from rushing out as soon as he was supposed to.

Next thing he knows, cold water is dripping down, _slipping down_ from his back into his boxers, because _of course,_ he _had_ to sleep shirtless.

He screams.

* * *

With how brilliantly Harry's morning started, no thanks to Gemma and _much_ thanks to his mother making him tea and making breakfast for his _traumatised_ son, Harry's step dad, Robin, drives him to school, while Gemma simply takes pride in being a college student and using the tube.

Harry retorted to that by saying that she's _so_ grown up that splashes water across her brother's back just for an alarm clock, to which Gemma shot back with 'Talk about that when you're out of school'.

Harry usually doesn't take offence. So, he didn't.

Upon arriving at school, Robin shuts down the engine, and turns to look at Harry.

"You okay, bud?" He asks, and Harry gives him a smile.

"Okay, just a bit jittery, I guess."

Robin smiles. "You'll be fine, I promise. I know this all has been hard for you quite a bit, and I am sorry, believe me, but there's not much that I can do. So, if there's anything you want me to do, just say so."

Harry feels warm inside at the words. "Honestly nothing. Just..." He contemplates on whether he should say it or not, and the waiting look on Robin's face urges him on. "I think I might have a hard time fitting in. A bit."

Robin rolls his eyes. "See, Haz, I'm gonna let you in a small secret," At the words, Harry leans a bit in, curious. "Anybody who doesn't want you, is an idiot, and doesn't deserve you." 

Robin says it all in a gravely, hushes voice like it's such a huge secret, and Harry can't help but laugh.

"Thanks for the input, really. Much appreciated." Harry grins, and Robin offers his fist. Harry bumps his smaller one against his dad's, and jumps out of the car with a goodbye.

He realises that he has to spend a bit of time alone, being the new student and all, so he doesn't dwell on it, and enjoys watching people around him a bit while he's alone and has time for himself.

The introduction in the class goes smooth, students are all warn and kind, and Harry eases into his place as the new students shortly.

His time of solitude, however, doesn't last much longer.

During the lunch break, it's _burned,_ quite literally.

Harry is standing in the line for food, because he isn't that hungry and he can do with something light and he also didn't want to add work for his mother, so here he is.

When he takes his tray, he starts walking towards, well, _any_ empty seat he can find and make it as less awkward as possible, he doesn't realise what really happens.

Maybe because everything happens all at once.

He collides with a body that comes out of nowhere in a flash, trips backwards, loses his grip on his tray, hears someone say 'shit', and the next thing he knows, his thighs are burning in a stinging sensation.

He gasps, a scream chocking in his throat as tears rush to fill his eyes, and he shuts them in pain.

When he opens them a moment later, the other person has fallen on the ground, and Harry barely manages to keep his loose grip on the tray so the person wouldn't be smacked on the head.

And then, it hits him.

"Oh my God, oh my God, I'm so so sorry I didn't see you there sorry are you okay?" Harry rambles in quick succession, and he could just sit down and _cry,_ because _wow, Harry, wow_. The cafeteria is _deadly_ quiet. _Wow._

The person looks up, eyes wide in surprise. "Me? _Me?!_ Mate are _you_ okay? You've got my tea splashed all over your trousers!" The guy reaches out and grips Harry's hips, his face way too close to his thighs. "You could've burned your dick!"

Harry almost drops the tray in shock, because.

_What._

There's a bark of loud, joyful laughter from somewhere in the cafeteria, cutting through the silence. "Cheers, Nialler! You could've burned the poor lad's _dick,_ as you so very delicately stated, and scarred him for life! I thought you liked children! Now you've scarred _us_ for life, so points for ya lad!"

The accent of the speaker is thick, probably northern, and that adds to the humour of his words, somehow. The entire cafeteria fall into a fit of chuckles, and even Harry finds himself smiling a bit.

"Oh shut up!" The boy shouts back, his own accent obviously Irish. "You scarred _me_ for life when you put five condoms in my jeans' pockets! Do you know what torment I went through when me mum found them?"

At that, the entire cafeteria bursts into laughter, and even Harry lets out a loud one as the boy in front of him stands up.

"Don't listen to that twat," The boy tells Harry, who's still laughing. "Are you really okay though?"

Harry sighs and touches his tea-soaked thigh, and it stings under the touch of his fingers so bad that he hisses.

"I think I did burn my thighs a bit, but at least my private parts are fine."

The Irish boy snorts. "Oh thank God, I can't be responsible for that shit." He mumbles, and Harry chuckles breathlessly.

The lad raises his gaze from Harry's thighs to Harry's face. "Alright, I'm gonna take you to the infirmary and make sure you're okay. I also have to pay for your lunch cos I'm pretty sure you dropped almost all of it."

"What a _gentleman!"_ The same voice from before, loud and high, shouts across the cafeteria, sarcasm dripping from it.

"He wasn't one much when he bellowed about some boy's lower parts just a moment ago. But I mean, _sure,_ go ahead and swipe him off his feet, mate!" Another voice, deeper, adds, and the boy in front of Harry snaps again.

"Oh _shut it_ you two! I'm gon' get back at ya for this one!" He shouts, as a blush starts creeping up Harry's face, and before he can see the faces of the people taunting the blond lad, he is carried away.

As Harry walks and the denim of his jeans rubs against his skin, he realises that he's hurting much more than he thought. He silently hisses and carries on.

"So," The blond boy starts, and Harry looks at him. "I know that was a horrible first impression, but I'm Niall Horan."

Harry smiles despite the pain. "Hi Niall, I'm Harry Styles."

Niall chuckles. "Yeah, funny. Now give me your real name."

Harry raises a brow. "It _is_ my real name."

Niall suddenly stops walking. "Wait, what?"

Harry stops as well. "Yeah, my name is Harry Styles. I could show you my student card when I get to my bag."

Niall gapes at him. "What the– who the _nuggets_ names their kid Harry Styles?"

_Nuggets?_

Harry smiles sheepishly. "My parents, I guess?"

Niall ignores him, running a hand through his blond hair, which looks dyed. "That's not a high school student's name, mate! Fuck, that's like, a rock star's name or somewhat! You sure that's really your name?"

Harry nods. He decides that he likes Niall. "Also, my middle name is Edward."

Niall groans. "Oh my _God_ this just keeps getting worse! _Harry Edward Styles_? Fuck mate, you sound like royalty, or a celebrity! Are you sure you didn't escape from Buckingham palace?"

Harry chuckles. "Definitely."

Niall narrows his eyes at him. " _Damn_ , you even look like a prince. Tell me I wasn't one inch away from burning a prince's dick."

Harry doesn't know why, but the way Niall says it is hilarious. He laughs. "No you weren't. The most damage you could've done was my sister humiliating me for life." 

Niall scrunches his nose. "Makes me feel lucky that I don' have one."

They start walking again, the silence only filled by Harry's hisses and Niall wincing everytime he does. They eventually reach the infirmary.

The nurse is kind, and she scowls at Niall a bit when he explains what has happened.

Then she turns to Harry. "Alright. I need you to take your jeans off, so I can see how bad the damage is."

Niall starts at that. "Oh, I can look away if–"

But before he's even done, Harry's jeans are pooling at his ankles.

Niall stares for a few moments. "Oh wow. It must've really hurt."

Harry shrugs. "It's not really that. I prefer myself naked."

He doesn't realise how wrong he sounds until Niall splutters and the nurse coughs awkwardly.

But it's too late to apologise, so Harry pretends that it's all cool.

"Move to the bed and sit down, please." The nurse orders. Harry obliges, while the nurse moves to her table and brings some moist pads and covers the reddened skin of Harry's thighs. Harry hisses, and he hears Niall mumbling 'Sorry'. He absentmindedly nods.

"The damage isn't that bad. Just don't wear anything tight for a few days, give them some time to breathe. When you shower, don't apply too hot water on them, it will hurt and it will make the healing process longer. It will swell a bit, but if it did swell a lot, pay me a visit, or go to a hospital. If there were any blisters, do _not_ break them. Are we clear?"

Harry nods, and the nurse smiles. 

"But," Niall suddenly says, his voice a bit shaky. "The tea was steaming, is he really okay?"

The nurse chuckles. "Niall, _of course_ the tea was steaming. It's almost winter, it doesn't mean the tea was that hot. In this weather, it'd have quickly lost temperature."

Niall gulps. "Right." Then he turns to Harry. "But, are you really okay?"

Harry smiles weakly and nods. "I'm okay, Niall. I'm just worried about what should I wear, since I can't wear the jeans anymore."

Niall shrugs. "Oh that's easy."

Harry frowns. _Easy?_

* * *

Turns out, it really is easy. After they're done in the infirmary, Niall texts a friend of his, and they walk out.

With Harry's jeans in his hands.

It doesn't take much walking until they meet Niall's friend in the hallway.

He looks up from his phone. "Niall, what the crap. You dragged me out of class for–" He sees Harry, and he stops talking abruptly.

Niall grins like nothing's wrong. "Sorry for the trouble, Li, but we need to sneak into the football team's locker room and steal a pair of shorts."

The boy can't seem to stop looking at Harry's naked thighs. At the end, he raises his head, shock written all across his features. "Tommo was right, you almost burned his dick."

Niall barks out a loud laugh while Harry blushes from head to toe, because, _what?_ So now the entire school knows about how he almost lost his little one? 

It's his _first day,_ _for God's sake_.

The other lad claps a hand against Niall's mouth to stop his laughter, hissing 'Shut up you idiot!' while he struggles to keep a hold on the laughing boy.

Harry almost whines in embarrassment, and Niall's friend looks at him.

"Sorry about this," He mumbles sheepishly. "I have _weird_ friends."

Harry shakes his head. "Figured."

Finally, Niall stops his laughter, and Liam takes Harry's hand and shakes it. "Nice to meet you, I'm Liam. Liam Payne."

Harry smiles. "Harry Styles."

Liam frowns. "Sorry, what was it again?"

Harry chuckles. "Harry Styles."

"No it's not."

Niall sighs beside him. "Yes it is."

Liam raises his brows. "Are your parents rock n' roll fans?"

Harry smirks. "Well, at least my last name isn't ' _pain_ '."

Liam makes a face that looks like he's having war flashbacks. "Please, _please,_ not you too. Tommo taunted me the entire fifth grade over this. I can't bear any more jokes."

Harry smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, I won't makes joke about it. I swear."

Niall huffs. "Finally, we have someone in this school who's actually polite." Then he turns to Liam. "He didn't even say 'dick'." 

Harry snorts and Liam shakes his head, then looks down at Harry's thighs. "Are you okay like this, though? It's a bit of a long way from here to the football locker rooms."

Niall snorts and starts walking away. "Oh please, the guy barely waited when the nurse said he can take 'em off. He could make one hell of a striper. Now c'mon, we've got eyes to save."

Liam sighs, then motions Harry into walking next to him and Niall. "Yeah. Just pray that none of the girls are ditching classes now. One look at those legs, and we'll lose our innocent Harry over here."

Harry frowns. "What's wrong with my legs?"

Niall sighs. "Mate, you're so bloody _fit._ I swear to God, those legs are as sinful as Zayn's."

Harry looks down at his legs. "Sinful? No they're not. I don't exercise much, I suck at standing on my own feet."

Liam groans. _"Fuck,_ he's _naturally_ fit. We're miserable, Nialler. With guys like him, Tommo, and Zayn, our chances with girls go to hell."

Harry snorts. "Uh, excuse you, Liam. You look like David Beckham. I don't see your point."

Liam _actually_ blushes. Niall shakes his head. "See? Also a charmer. What about me, though? I have no chance with girls."

Harry looks over at him. "Niall, you look like a pie. _Everybody_ loves pie. If someone doesn't like pie, they don't have taste. In fact, I think if I _was_ interested, I would take you out on a day or two–"

Liam slapped a hand against Harry's mouth. " _Shut up!_ "

Niall is gaping beside him, and Harry grins at him a bit shyly from under Liam's hand, hoping he didn't scare him off.

Liam face palms. " _Dammit_ , Harry. You should _definitely_ stay away from girls. You think anyone will survive like that? God, I thought I'm _straight_."

Harry makes a confused face. 

Niall gives him a look. "Mate, if I wasn't straight, I'd be kissing you right now, cos that was fucking smooth." Then he shakes his head. "God, a _pie_. No compliment can ever top that one."

Harry raises his brows in surprise, and Liam removes his hand. "Harry, please, there's no need to charm us, we _will_ give you those shorts."

Harry gasps. "I'm not–!"

Niall groans. "Screw that, Liam, make sure he doesn't meet Tommo and Zayn. If he does, we're done for. Them being best mates is already hell."

Harry pouts. Who is this _'Tommo'_ that Niall keeps mentioning?

Liam nods solemnly. "You're right. If he does, we're _screwed_."

Suddenly, a class door opens and a boy walks out.

He looks up at Liam, Niall and Harry, before his eyes slide down to Harry's thighs. Then he looks up at Niall and Liam again.

"What are you two doing."

"Fuck," Harry hears Liam and Niall grumble in union, and Niall speaks up.

"Zee, this is the same kid that I almost burned his dick in the cafeteria. Screw my fate, you two _had_ to meet."

Zayn smirks softly, his honey-colored eyes meeting Harry's. "Oh, so it's you."

Harry nods. "I'm Harry Styles."

Zayn raises a brow, then shakes Harry's hand. "Zayn Malik."

Harry turns to look at Niall and Liam. "You two have a friend named _Zayn Malik_ , and you freak out over my name?"

Zayn chuckles. For some odd reason, he feels royal. And Niall called _him_ a prince. 

"It does sound like a rock name, Harry." Zayn says, his voice soothing, for some odd reason. Everything about him feels someway for some odd reason. "But hey, it's all cool. At least your last name isn't–"

" _And we're going!_ " Liam exclaims a bit loudly and Zayn laughs, alongside Niall and Harry, as Liam stomps away, grumbling under his breath.

"Where are you all going?" Zayn asks, as he starts walking besides Niall and Harry. 

"The football locker rooms, to steal shorts for Harry." Naill explains.

Zayn nods towards Harry's bare thighs. "Right. This is almost as dangerous as Tommo is tight jeans." Then he shakes his head. "Almost every guy here went gay that day."

Harry can't hold the question in anymore. "Who's this Tommo that you keep talking about?"

Niall chuckles. "Oh you don't have to worry about meeting him, mate. _Everyone_ will meet Tommo. And so will you, eventually."

Harry raises his brows. What does that even _mean_?

Zayn seems to read his mind. "He's so loud, you just can't not notice him. He jumps around all the time and steals attention. The guy yelling at Niall in cafeteria? That's him."

Harry suddenly has something to connect to this 'Tommo' character. His voice. High and loud and like nothing he's heard before. Bold and just so confident.

And everything unlike Harry's.

Harry's is deep, low, and easy to ignore. He's mostly standing in the sides, while this Tommo person sounds like that one guy glowing under the spotlight.

And Harry doesn't know why, but he _really_ wants to meet him.

They eventually reach the locker rooms, which Liam has opened its door since he's, apparently, more of a David Beckham than Harry's notices and is in the football team, and he's allowed to enter.

They walk in, and Liam opens a locker. "My shorts?" 

Niall gives an evil laugh. Zayn smirks. Harry gulps.

"Of course _not,_ Li." Niall taunts, then he opens another locker. "We're taking _Tommo's."_

Right there and then, Harry suddenly decides that this day has been much too eventful for his first day.


	3. Drama Queens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Niall pays, Gemma is one protective sis with a cool head, people are drama queens and Louis Tomlinson charms everyone.
> 
> One of the statements above is a lie.

Harry opens the door to his home and steps in, kicking off his shoes with a sigh.  
  
"What." He hears Gemma say, voice colored in surprise.  
  
"What what." Harry replies, because _hey, greetings._  
  
"What happened to your jeans?" Gemma asks as Harry drags himself into the living room where Gemma is settled and plops down on the couch.  
  
"Soaked in tea." Harry mumbles as he lies down on the couch, making himself as comfortable as he can get.  
  
"God, Harry, what did you do this time?" Gemma sounds more exasperated than concerned.  
  
Harry closes his eyes and sighs again. "Bumped into someone in the cafeteria. He spilled tea all over my jeans. Burned my thighs."  
  
Suddenly, Gemma is by his side. "What? Where? Who? Just tell me and I'll drag their _sorry_ _arse–_ "  
  
"Gems no!" Harry suddenly opens his eyes, sitting up. "It's okay, he didn't mean it. Besides, he helped me to the infirmary and helped me sneak into a locker room to steal these shorts."  
  
"You do realise that he wasn't being kind and that's just being a decent human being, which is his duty, right?" Gemma's tune is blank. "Also, steal?"  
  
Harry gulps. "Uh... yeah." He looks at the football shorts. "They had this friend who, like, made huge fun of Niall," He pauses, realising Gemma doesn't know Niall. "The guys who spilled tea on me," He explains. "And so they stole his shorts as a revenge. Liam told me he was super pissed when he didn't have shorts for practice and had to do it in his joggers."  
  
Gemma scoffs. "Well he deserved it. What kind of friend makes fun of their friends?"  
  
Harry narrows his eyes dramatically. "Uh, _Gems,_ you make fun of me all the time."  
  
"Yeah, and I have a right to do so as the older sister." She says sternly. "If I don't bully you, others bullying you will hurt you. I bully you at home so you'd be numb to others bullying you."  
  
Harry sighs. "Oh what a _great_ sister you are."  
  
Gemma smirks. "That I am."  
  
Harry gets back on topic. "But, like, Niall's friend wasn't being mean or anything. It was all in good humour. Apparently, that's just the lad's humour. No one was offended."  
  
Gemma thinks for a moment. "Did he make fun of _you?"_  
  
Harry laughs. "No way. He made fun of Niall for nearly scarring me for life."  
  
Gemma's face goes confused. "Scarring?"  
  
Harry coughs. "Right." Then he takes the shorts off without getting up, showing Gemma his thighs.

Gemma winces so hard that she flinches. The burn isn't that bad, but it's still a screaming red color covering his thighs.  
  
Harry touches the corners of the burn. "Apparently, it was a close call."  
  
Gemma suddenly understands, then covers her mouth with one hand as her eyes widen. "Oh. My. God."  
  
Harry nods. "Yup."  
  
Gemma is merely staring. Harry thinks that this Tommo character was right; Niall is scarring everyone. Gemma looks scarred.  
  
Then she shakes her head in disbelief, a breath escaping him in a rush. "Harry Edward Styles," She mumbles, looking at Harry with wide eyes.  
  
Harry's _screwed._ He just knows it.  
  
"Imagine how hilarious it would've been if you've actually... Oh God." Gemma's voice trembles, her body sags as she's sitting on the ground, and she lets out a breathless laugh.  
  
And Harry can't take it anymore. He falls back on the couch and laughs loud.

* * *

  
Harry's mum is much more worried about his burns than Gemma, who's probably imagining Harry's wails of agony if he had actually burned his lower parts. Harry internally shakes his head.  
  
Luckily no one makes a big deal out of it. After a while, Anne finally lets Harry go upstairs to change. Harry walks in his room, careful to not trip over any boxes. He brings out his most comfortable joggers and suddenly smiles at the thought of this 'Tommo' being forced to practice in his joggers because Harry took his football shorts. Harry takes off his, no no, _Tommo's_ shorts and pulls his joggers up. Then he takes his shirt off to let his skin breathe. He folds the football shorts and runs downstairs, adding it to the day's laundry so he can wash it. He runs back upstairs, just in time to receive a text.  
  
**Niall:**  
_Yo Harry, how's things going? Your parents wanna kill me yet?_  
  
Harry chuckles at Niall's antics. He's glad he asked for his number. Which led to Zayn giving him his number. Which led to Liam doing the same.  
  
**Harry:**  
_Hi. Nooooo. Why would they? My sister laughed._  
  
He doesn't say the part where Gemma wanted to drag his arse. Oh well.  
  
**Niall:**  
_Oh thank God. I'm glad I don't have a sister._  
  
**Harry:**  
_My sister is a good one. Can't say I'm unlucky._  
  
**Niall:**  
_Aren't they supposed to be drama queens or something?_  
  
Harry laughs at that one.  
  
**Harry:**  
_Oh no. That's me, not her._  
  


* * *

  
"I swear to God Liam–"  
  
_"Oh come on–"_  
  
"I want my _shorts!"_ He yells, his voice echoing off the bedroom walls.  
  
_"It's not like they're sacred or anything!"_  
  
"But they are," He taunts. "They are. And you touched them. You will not _last,_ Liam."  
  
_"Oh drop the drama."_ Liam hisses through the phone. _"It wasn't even my idea, it was Niall's!"_  
  
He rolls his eyes. Not that anyone can see or anything. He hopes Liam can _hear_ him rolling them. "Yet you agreed. I can't believe this. I thought you were my partner in crime. But you went ahead and stabbed me in the back."  
  
He hears Liam sigh. How _very_ dare he. He's making a _very_ valid point here. _"No one stabbed you in the back, mate. And I'm not your partner in crime, that's Zayn."_  
  
"You gave away my shorts!" He chokes on a sob. If Liam's groan is anything to go by, he's not buying into it. Whatever. It's him in the acting team, not _Liam._ "They were the only thing I had left! How could you do this to me?"  
  
_"Oh for God's sake, Tommo,"_ Liam sounds exasperated. _Good. "Stop being a drama quee–"_  
  
He hangs up. No one calls him a drama queen.  
  
No one.  
  
Also, he'll make Niall _pay._  
  
He grabs his wallet and jacket, walking out of home. If Lottie yells ' _What's gotten up into you, big baby bro?_ ' as he walks (Yes, _walks._ He's not stomping his feet. He's eighteen, not a child. _Pffft._ Nonsense. He walks like a queen.) out the door, it's between him and Lottie.  
  
He'll make Niall pay. Even if it makes him freeze in cold night.  
  
He takes off towards Liam's house.  
  


* * *

  
Next morning, Liam wakes up, only to fall back into his bed, wishing this nightmare could go away.  
  
His entire closet is emptied, clothes in the middle of his room, all painted in _red._  
  
He still doesn't understand why his mum lets Louis in. In the _middle of the night_ , nonetheless.  
  
But then he remembers the way Louis smiles, and that explains everything.  
  
He hates Louis. So. Much.

* * *

Harry finds Niall rather quickly the next day.

"Niall!" He calls excitedly, and the Irish lad turns at the sound. Then he beams.

"Harry, lad!!! Last time I saw you, I was afraid of your parents." He gives a dramatic silence. "I'm still afraid of your parents."

Harry laughs and walks over to him. "Don't be. They blame my own clumsiness enough for not wanting to scold you. It's not like you'll meet them anytime soon."

Niall chuckles. "You mean you're not going to introduce me?"

Harry shrugs. "I am, but not now." He shakes his head, as if to physically clear it. "Anyway, I brought back the shorts. Washed and all." He pauses, handing Niall the shorts he's been holding in his hand. "They probably smell like strawberries."

Niall downright howls in laughter. After his laughter subsides, he shakes his head. "Ah, Tommo's gon' _love_ this." He takes a deep breath. "But Liam's gonna need washing mechanism more than Tommo now."

Harry frowns. "Why?"

Niall clears his throat. "He needs to wash colour off of his... Well, entire wardrobe."

Harry's jaw falls open so bad it hurts. " _WHAT?_ " He shrieks. "Why would he... What happened? Has he been attacked or something?"

He definitely doesn't expect Niall to nod. "Yeah, Tommo apparently took revenge."

Harry frowns. "But that's like... So _mean_!" He watches Niall raise a brow. "I mean, he's putting Liam through so much for just _shorts,_ don't you think?"

Niall huffs out a laugh. "Well, if it was anybody else other than them, then yeah. But thing is, that's how they work." Niall starts walking, tucking the shorts under his armpit. Harry walks next to him. "They didn't get along in middle school at all. Like, _mate,_ downright _arch enemies_. That bad. Tommo is easygoing and likes fooling around, but Liam is so serious and all. They were put in this team for some project, and Liam and Tommo quickly clashed. Long story short, they started hating each other so much it _hurt._ Tommo started letting out his frustration by pranks and Liam kept getting into fights with him."

At this point, Harry is gawking. Niall, uncaring towards Harry's state, keeps telling the story: "Things got nasty quickly. This one time, Liam got so mad that he punched him square in the jaw, and Tommo bit his tongue so bad it started bleeding like crazy. Liam was shook. Like, _shook._ Tommo wasn't known for hating someone, not seriously, but Liam's punch hurt him so bad that he started crying in the middle of the hallway, and when me and Zayn got to him, his entire palm was full of blood. It was horrifying, watching hatred in his eyes. He was so scary I almost wet myself. Back then we weren't friends, I was with Liam. It was something straight out of a movie, watching Tommo say _'I hate you so fucking much.'_ with blood on his lips and hand. I don't know how Liam managed to stay on his legs. Of course, that didn't last long when Zayn got there and punched Liam in the nose."

Harry is speechless. He just... Imagining Liam fight with his bulid is not _that_ hard, but imagining Zayn throwing a punch... He just doesn't look like the type, and yet, it makes sense.

"Watching Tommo cry was even _worse._ He's just... So happy and jumpy, that watching him cry physically hurts. Even _I_ wanted to punch Liam when we went to the infirmary and Tommo broke down in tears, his hand shaking, full of blood. Turns out he was just having a hard time personally and Liam punching him emotionally hurt him. He was famous for having a runny mouth, I mean you've heard his sarcasm and all, and I heard from Liam that he was bullied in elementary school a lot, so I lost my shit when he was sitting there mumbling ' _runny mouth_ ' like a fucking _mantra._ He apparently found it ironic that he's bit his tongue and is bleeding from there, since that's what got him there in the first place. Zayn looked like he wanted to kick me out, but I stayed and calmed Tommo, so I guess that saved my life. Liam was just so _shook_ that he took the detention with happiness. It took long for them to forgive each other, so long, because apparently Louis has said something awful to Liam before he got punched. So it was both their faults. They're best mates now, well aside from me and Zee, but the whole dynamic is running on bantering and harmless pranks. So yeah." He shrugs like he didn't say anything groundbreaking. "The vendetta was then. But now? Oh mate, they _smash it_ in the field together. Their teamwork makes _magic._ That's how we won the last round of games. You should've been there. They did awesome."

Harry can't feel his toes. "Wow."

Niall nods. "Yeah. I know I annoyed you."

Harry shakes his head. "No no, I just..." Then he says the first thing that comes to mind. "You're a great storyteller."

Niall looks at him in surprise. "Really?"

Harry nods, fixing his backpack. "Yeah. I lived it. Wow. That's... A lot."

Niall smiles. "I like stories and storytelling." Then he pats Harry's shoulder. "So don't take them seriously, mate. That's just how they are. Now tell me how you can wash colour off clothes in the shortest time possible."

Harry chuckles. "Easy. Just use the washing machine." Then he walks in his class. "Bye Niall."

Niall just stands there, dumbstruck, watching Harry disappear among other students.

Then he sighs. "Bold of you to assume he knows how to use the washing machine."

Then he starts walking away, before he suddenly stops. "Wait," He wonders aloud. "Does that mean Harry knows how to use one?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha. A bit if a filler, I see.
> 
> You're lucky I've already written the next chapter. Expect the unexpected.
> 
> If you liked this chapter, comment below! Lemme know your thoughts x


	4. Out Of Blue, Straight Back Into Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Louis Tomlinson.
> 
> In which Harry is a creep, and Louis is the therapist, and Niall and Liam and Zayn are NOWHERE to be found when you need them.
> 
> I'm not even sorry.

Harry's a bit fidgety in the class. He should've probably stopped Niall before he could say his entire life story (Well, okay, not his _life story,_ but Harry has a feeling that if he lets Niall, he'll probably do that.), but now he's heard all sorts of things about this Tommo without meeting him.

And he kinda has no idea what to expect.

All he has is his voice. Based on his football shorts, he's probably Harry's size, but that's all he knows. He hasn't seen him before, he doesn't know what he looks like. He doesn't know why, but he's kinda dependant on seeing people so he can get to know them.

God, he hasn't even officially _met_ him.

That's why he thinks it's so unfair that he's hearing all these things about him without knowing him. Like, what he's gonna do when he meets him? Say 'Hi, I know you cried in middle school because you got punched in the face and you were bullied in elementary school, let's have tea'?

Yeah _no._

It's not like he can say, _oh no big deal, I'm not gonna meet him anyway_. Based on Zayn's promise, he _is_ going to meet him, sooner or later.

That's all that is on his mind as he walks out of the class, towards the toilets.

That's all that is on his mind as he starts having a wee.

_Why is he thinking so much about this anyway?_

That's probably why he doesn't realise someone softly bumping into him. That's probably why he gets startled so much he turns around. That's probably why he _hasn't stopped weeing_ and he's _turned around._

He watches small drops of urine land on someone's shoes.

Shit.

_Shit._

_Shit._

_**Shiiiiiit.** _

He braces himself for _death_ as he looks up.

The person is looking straight back at him.

Harry wants to _cry._ For like, _third_ time in the past _two_ days.

He's never wanted to cry more in his life.

He takes a shaky breath, thinking of the best thing to say in this situation.

"Oops...?"

He says instead.

Well, _fuck._

The boy in front of him stares for a few moments, before he smiles.

"Hi!" He says back, his blue eyes glinting.

It's safe to say that Harry is physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually _unable_ to move. He's glued in place. It's like the world has stopped moving for some reason. It's probably the blood in his veins, not knowing where to go because of embarrassment and shock. Yeah, it's that.

The boy in front of him slowly looks down at his shoes, and Harry does the same, like he's suddenly out of his own control. Everything starts coming back to him, slowly and all at once, and he takes a shaky breath, his eyes going blurry.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, I... I'm–" His tongue is tied, tied, _tied_ in knots, in a thousand knots, and he's probably hyperventilating.

The boy giggles softly, looking back up at Harry. Harry instantly meets his eyes. _Out of control._

"Hey, it's okay!" He giggles, reaching out and squeezing Harry's shoulder. "Wash up, yeah? It looks like you're panicking a bit."

A bit.

_A bit._

Harry's _dying._

He does turn around and finish washing though, and he doesn't really know if he's just done weeing or he's so panicked and shocked that he's incapable of weeing anymore. He doesn't care. He just... His brain is in jumbles.

"What's up with the curls, though?" The boy next to him asks, blue eyes locking gazes with him. Harry takes a few moments to register the question and prepare an answer.

"It's... They're just... My hair. I guess?" He says lamely, and he's probably blushing, because this is the most embarrassing day of his life. Nothing compares to this. He's just not functioning anymore.

The boy smiles, wide and genuine and everything else that is nice. "They're adorable."

_Okay._ Harry can blame his blushing on embarrassing himself for life and not because he's flustered. Yeah, that's it. That's the best plan Harry's ever had.

"T-Thanks." Harry stutters, words coming out slower than usual, syllables tripping over each other, his voice quivery. That's why he just doesn't talk when he's nervous. He doesn't know why he's talking to this boy right now. Maybe because he doesn't want to be any more disrespectful.

After the boy is done, he reaches out for Harry's arm, leading him away from the toilets towards the basins. Harry dumbly follows.

The boy turns the faucet on and starts washing his hands, raising one eyebrow at Harry. So, naturally, Harry reaches and turns his own faucet on, washing his hands slowly. They're probably shaking.

"Y'know," The boy says suddenly, and Harry almost jumps out of his skin. "I really don't mind you peeing on my shoe. I mean, it's vans. Easily washable. Besides," He turns the faucet off, and turns around to smile at Harry. "It was also my fault for bumping into you. You were so lost in thoughts, I startled you. I'm so sorry."

Harry breathes. It feels like he hasn't done that in ages, which is _literally_ impossible since he's still alive. Or maybe not. Maybe he's died and went to heaven, but his opinion of heaven's toilets were a bit different if he's honest with himself–

What is his brain _saying._ Just _what._ There's this guy who _he's splashed pee on, by the way_ , standing here talking to him instead of telling him he hates him and tell the entire school about what a mess he is, and he's thinking about _heaven._

Wow, Harry. _Wow._

He turns the faucet off, and grips it for dear life. "I'm... No I'm just... I'm sorry." He breathes, looking away. "It was my fault. I should've paid more attention."

The boy's smile only gets softer. He leans against the basin. "Figured. You did look pretty deep in thoughts. A penny?"

Harry forces himself to take his death grip off the faucet and relax. Right. Having a conversation. He can do that.

"It's just... I'm new." He says dumbly, like that explains it all.

The boy is not looking at him as if he's dumb. "Yeah, I guessed. I probably know almost everyone in here, and believe me, _not_ a liberty," He snorts. Harry finds himself smiling. "But I haven't seen you around."

Harry nods. "Yeah, so... See, it's just that..." He knows he's making a _mess_ here, probably annoying the boy. But the boy doesn't seem like he's done with Harry or anything, so Harry continues. "I'm... I don't know if you can call it that, but, accidentally, I made some friends... And they have this... Mutual friend that I haven't met, for some reason, I guess."

The boy nods. Harry finds himself continuing instead of apologising and running away. "And they just... Keep talking about him and saying all these things about him... And I guess I just... It's good to hear, _really,_ but... I don't know, I don't know the lad... And I guess... I don't wanna judge him based on what others said before meeting him, but that's kinda getting hard."

By now, the boy is looking at Harry way too softly. It's too soft that Harry doesn't think it's legal anymore. Part of him doesn't care.

Then, the boy fixes his fringe and sighs, smile never fading. "Mate, you're just... Wow." He pauses. "Here I thought _what_ could you be thinking about–"

"Sorry, I know it's all so _dumb–"_

"–but if you're this kind and considerate, the lad's _insane_ if he thinks a bad thing of you, even if you judge him." The boy finishes, shooting Harry a sheepish look.

Harry almost gapes.

"I mean," The boy huffs and fixes his fringe again, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "You're thinking whether it's okay or not if you know about the lad the things you should get to know about him yourself, yeah?" Harry nods. "I think that it doesn't matter if you know about him or not, you wouldn't judge him. You just..." He shrugs. "Don't strike me as the judging type. If you're giving it _this_ much thought, then you should be fine."

Harry considers it for a moment. Technically, the boy doesn't know him a bit. Not more than ten minutes. Harry has absolutely no reason to believe him. But... But his perception of Harry's train of thoughts, to lead him to judging how his character must be is... Quick, easy and... Almost impressive. Not because others can't get the lead to reach the same conclusion, but because...

Others don't _care._ They don't care enough to do so.

So why is this lad, standing in a toilet, with Harry's _pee on his shoes_ , listening to him and helping him through his jumbling thoughts?

Maybe Harry doesn't have this lad's observation or thought process, but his own says that there's only one reason: He's genuinely and easily _nice._

Harry smiles at him. "That's... Very nice of you to say, really."

The boy laughs, shaking his head. "Look at the guy. Doesn't even accept a simple compliment. Not that I'm not being absolutely honest or anything."

Harry pushes his hands in his pockets, looking down at the tip of his shoes. "Sorry about the whole thing again."

Harry looks up just fast enough to catch the boy smirking. " _The whole thing_?" He teases.

Harry pouts. "Oh come _on."_

The boy laughs. "You're too easy mate, I'm joking. I know. It's okay, really. I don't mind."

Harry sheepishly looks at his vans. Fuck, they look _new._ "Still."

The boy's face suddenly goes serious. "Trust me lad. I've seen worse." He whispers.

Harry chuckles. The boy smiles back, breaking character.

 _"Louis!_ Mate, you went to have a wee, what _are_ you doing?" A voice from outside yells, and the boy jumps.

"Bollocks, I gotta go." He says, and smiles at Harry. "It was nice talking to you. Welcome to this school of _madness._ See you around."

He winks and he goes out.

"Oi you _crackheads!_ I was having _private business_ in there, have you got no shame?" Harry hears a voice yell from the outside.

His brain is still to jumbly to realise that he recognises the voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Yes, I did that.
> 
> None of you can complain.
> 
> Cliche™ because I'm a sucker for rom-com.


	5. Knowing, Or Not...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Louis is insecure, Harry is even more insecure, Zayn is wise, and Niall messes up.
> 
> Also, Harry's probably starstruck. You can thank me later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is gonna pain you. Just saying.

Niall finds Louis before the practice.

"OI! Tommo!" He yells across the hallway, and Louis turns, his face beaming.

"Nialler!!!" He greets as Niall rushes and gives him a hug. "Sorry I couldn't get to you for lunch, mate. I got busy."

Niall nods. "I know." Then he reaches for his back and brings the folded shorts out. "Here, your shorts. Washed and all."

Louis takes the shorts from Niall, examining them. Niall continues. "Proper lad, he even washed it. I reckon he knows how to use a washing machine. Told me to warn ya that they probably smell like strawberries."

Louis quickly bring the cloth up to his nose, sniffing. They do smell like strawberries. "Niall, remind me to ask him what he uses to wash, this smells proper nice. I mean, I can't find my way through shopping for these stuff, but me mum can."

Niall grins. "You should meet him, mate. He's so nice. Called you mean when I told him about what you did to Liam."

Louis almost drops the shorts. He gapes at Niall. "Way to go, Nialler! Leave a nice impression of me for the guy! What else did you tell him, that I got a stripper nickname?"

Niall shrugs. "Well we didn't tell him your _name._ He knows you as Tommo. We didn't tell him it's your stripper persona nickname though."

Louis lets out a squeak. " _Why?_ "

Niall shrugs. Louis wants to bang either of their head against a wall. Toilet Lad's voice echoes in his head, _'I don't wanna judge him based on what others said before meeting him'_. His face and shaky gaze and worried stance is still fresh in his memory. He wonders if he's lucky enough to be on the receiving end of such thought process.

"What else did you tell the poor boy." Louis gives Niall one big blank stare, but Niall is immune from his antics by now.

"Just to prevent misunderstandings, I told him about you and Liam's history."

_Wow._ Louis is breaking up with Niall.

"You told him about what a _mess_ I was in middle school?" He almost yells, and at this, Niall huffs.

"What do you wanna hear? 'No, I haven't told him a thing'? He wanted to know why you and Liam are like this, and I told him about it."

"You could've just said that's how we are and move on!" Louis hisses. "Instead, you went ahead and told him all I... maybe _didn't_ want him to know!"

Niall glares. "Why d'you care anyway? That was _before,_ this is now, he wouldn't _care_!"

"You say that like you know him enough!"

"Listen," Niall says in a stern voice he rarely uses. "I might not be smart like Zayn or observant like you or just good at reading people like Liam. But I've got a gut, and my _gut_ tells me that the lad wouldn't judge someone even if he's _paid._ More than anything, he was struck by my storytelling, not any sort of _antagonizing_ you're trying to do here. So you can let it go. He's too nice to think anything bad."

Louis scowls. "You don't know that."

Niall's phone gives a ring, as if on cue, and Niall fishes it out of his pocket, reading the text. Then, he snickers, turning the phone around to show Louis. Louis looks at the screen.

**Harry:**  
_Just going in the library and people are yelling. Can men find peace in this school?_

**Harry:**  
_For a second there I thought this Tommo friend of yours has started a rebellion against calling people names in the school. He seems to be the lead for any yelling around here._

**Harry:**   
_Heard his name once or twice. If you saw him tell him that whoever called him someone with a runny mouth is a proper twat and deserves to be unraveled by Zayn's gaze._

**Harry:**   
_I swear he's after my soul. Is he in charge of the library? He's standing next to this shelf, glaring. Save me? x_

Louis snickers, reading the texts. "Tell him he's a proper lad, and once I find time in my hectic schedule and rearrange my meeting with the queen, I'll find time for him."

It's not even that funny. Niall cackles anyway.

* * *

Harry almost jumps out of his skin when Zayn snaps the book he was reading shut.

"We're going." Zayn curtly says, putting his book back in the shelf. 

"We?" Harry asks, startled. "Where?"

Zayn seems to be set on the job though, and walks away without waiting for Harry. Harry rushes to gather his notebooks and runs after Zayn, almost tripping over thin air.

"Woah there," Zayn catches him before he face-plants to death. "You have a knack for falling, don't you."

Harry straightens himself, and they keep walking. "Zayn, you have _no_ idea."

"I actually don't," Zayn says bluntly. Harry notices that Zayn rarely sugarcoats his words. "But it probably sucks."

Harry nods. "It would've been much better if one of my legs wasn't half an inch shorter than the other."

Zayn stares blankly for a few moments before he grins. "You're weirder than I thought."

Harry sighs. "I know."

Zayn rushes to correct him. "A _good_ weird, Harry." He reasons. "You're gonna meet a lot of mainstream people, the right definition of stereotypes. People think the key to being accepted is fitting themselves in people's expectations. That, my friend, is _bullshit_." Harry starts at hearing Zayn curse. "You're never gonna meet everyone's expectations. That's impossible. You know why? Because _satisfying people_ is impossible. No matter what you do, they will find something else to poke at. And once you let them, they'll eventually get to control you and your life."

"I try," Harry says, clutching his backpack in his arms. "I really try, to not care about what other people think about me, but..." His voice fades a bit. "But I rarely succeed."

Zayn smiles. "You're young, Harry. It takes time. But if you wanna get there, then you will. Trust me."

Harry blinks. "Why do I get the feeling that you're an old soul in the body of a teen, Zayn?"

Zayn actually laughs. "Maybe because I am. Out of the two of us, me and Tommo, one should think."

Harry smiles. "So you're saying he's in the action type?"

Zayn smirks. "Not really," Then he leads Harry into the football field area. "More like the 'Not Think And Jump Headfirst Into It' type."

Harry laughs. "You mean the stubborn, reckless type."

Zayn nods. "Were you serious though? About the leg thing?" He asks.

Harry smiles. "Yup. It is actually one shorter than the other. And that's not even the worst of it."

Zayn quirks a brow. "Anything else I need to know?" He teases.

Harry chuckles, thinking of his two extra nipples. "No, not really."

Zayn doesn't argue any further, and they keep walking.

From afar, a loud yell catches Harry's attention. A team of boys seem to be playing football in the field. Harry stops to watch. As he stares, he realises he recognises a face.

The boy he met in the toilet.

The serene, calm boy he met in the toilet is an absolute _hurricane_ there, in the field. 

He keeps running and jumping around, light feet carrying him like he's flying. He keeps motioning with his hands, yelling commands above all else, and despite his smaller size, his presence is so big that it seems to swallow the field whole.

And Harry... Doesn't get it. How can someone be so bright and brilliant, catching attention from left and right, even from a distance? The loud voice and louder personality is just so... Harry doesn't know what the best word to use is. The boy seems to enamor the entire focus and attention on himself. Even when he was quiet and calm in the toilet, something about him just... Demanded to be known. Even in his calm, the boy was bold.

That's almost _nothing_ like Harry.

Harry's snapped out of his thoughts by the ball being smashed against the football net, loud voices finding their way to become higher in excitement.

Harry smiles. He wonders just how exciting it must be, making a goal.

He'll probably never know.

"Harry!!!" He hears Niall yell, and he turns, looking at him and Zayn running towards him, Niall looking like he's been handed his death sentence.

"Niall?" He askes, but before he can register what has happened, Niall is gripping his shoulders.

"Harry, I have a math exam," He forces out. "And I don't know a _thing."_

_Oh no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. The pain is real.
> 
> *runs away*


	6. Anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which... Well, Harry is starstruck, Louis is obsessed, Zayn has a secret, Niall is the child, and Liam spends his time being shook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Larry Stylinson.
> 
> Beware the rom-com cliche

Niall's terrified state and Zayn's mum persona of _Mommy Is Not Proud™_ , accompanied by Liam's dad persona of _Daddy Is Disappointed™_ , leads the four of them in the library to helping Niall study, or, as Harry likes to call it, Project Make Sure Niall Passes, also known as MSNP. Nobody acknowledges the name, but Harry doesn't care.  
  
So, naturally, Harry takes the rule of playing the younger, caring, wiser sister _(huh)_ , and encourages Niall into studying and keeping focus, while telling him the things he should pay attention to.  
  
Which is... Rather difficult.  
  
"Put. The phone. Down!" Harry says, every word punctuated with Zayn throwing books at Niall, who keeps dodging with a yell for each.  
  
"I'm just _texting!_ " He defends, which is a _horrible_ defense system. Harry's inner sister snaps. He's _pissed._  
  
"Yes," he rumbles, his voice low, words coming out slower. "Which is exactly why you haven't learnt a _thing_ in the class. Is that what you do Niall, _texting?"_ Niall gulps. Harry glares. "Next time you're _texting,_ remember that next time when you're standing at the brink of failing, I'm not going to be there to pull you back, Niall." He gets closer to Niall's face, whispering the last words. "Rather, I'd make sure to _push_ you off the edge, to make you _fall._ Maybe that'll teach you a lesson." Then he leans back, smacking his hand against Niall's text book, locking eyes with him. "Now, study and hand over your phone to Zayn."  
  
Niall slowly hands his phone to a very shocked, very frozen Zayn. Liam, who's standing a bit away next to a shelf, is gaping.  
  
Harry looks at them both, not getting what's up. "What?"  
  
"Fuck," Zayn lowly mutters. "That was intimidating as fuck."  
  
"Where," Liam softly asks. "The _hell,_ did you learn to do that."  
  
Harry shrugs. "That's what Gemma does every time. My sister. I just, picked up on it after a while."  
  
Niall nods. "Is she single?"  
  
Harry's glare is dripping with death. "Do you _really_ wanna know that?"  
  
Suddenly, Niall picks up the textbook to bury his nose in it. "No, never mind, forget I asked."  
  
Harry leans back against his chair, popping his legs up to put them on the table, locking his hands behind his head. "That's what I thought."  
  
Zayn narrows his eyes. "Who are you and what did you do to Harry?"  
  
Harry makes sure Niall isn't looking, then grins at Zayn and winks, all the serious persona disappearing. "Right here." He mouths.  
  
Zayn huffs out a laugh. Liam shakes his head with a smile, muttering something like ' _Your voice is so deep_ ' under his breath. Harry doesn't care.  
  
At least Niall's studying now.  
  
At the quiet air of it all, Harry finds himself lost in thoughts again.  
  
 _'But if you're this kind and considerate, the lad's insane if he thinks a bad thing of you, even if you judge him.'_

Harry smiles at the words ringing in his mind. He gave the boy's words lots of thoughts. At the end, he decided that the boy is most probably right.  
  
But it's kind of strange to think about. The boy running around in the field, hair a mess, grin almost breaking his face in the rather cold weather, is nothing like the calm, quiet and soft looking boy in the toilets. The boy didn't seem to be the kind of bold to kick balls and making goals, yelling like a sailor. The boy in the toilets was bold in a different way.  
  
Bold like... Like _art._  
  
Harry's breath catches at the discovery. It's strange, yet it couldn't make more _sense._ The boy in the toilets was like art: bold and colourful, yet calm and quiet and soundless. The boy in the field, however, seemed to be the process if making such art: colours splashing around, brushes leaving hot trails of colour behind, raw colours mixing, shifting... Softening.  
  
And Harry could feel the presence of such trails in the boy he met in the toilets; The way his eyes glinted, the slight sharpness of his smile, the way he held himself, confident and comfortable and like he's the star of some show. The way his words were stern, despite feeling so soft, the way his humour had an edge he couldn't seem to notice or take off, all of it.  
  
Harry smiles. Two times seeing the boy, and his attention is already there. Harry has met so many interesting people, but this... This feels different, somehow. More complex, more exciting.  
  
He wants to know more. About all of them, really. About Zayn's ocean-deep brain, about Niall's emotions that seem to be transparent all the time, about the quiet, serious way Liam carries himself...  
  
And Tommo.  
  
And that's when his train of thoughts bumps into a _mountain_ and _shatters._  
  
"Niall!!!" Someone yells, and Harry jumps, his legs sliding off the table.  
  
Then, someone appears from behind the shelves. "Mate, you can't keep failing like this. Where's your spirit of responsibility?"  
  
And Harry knows him.  
  
His eyes are blue, bluer than anything in the world, his eyelashes casting shadows on his orbs, playing with colour and light. His fringe is a bit messy, brushed across his forehead. His smile is sharp, eyes holding a fragment of mischief, and they slide on Harry, locking gazes with him.  
  
Recognition settles in his features fast, and he grins. "We meet again, it seems."  
  
Zayn ignored the comment completely. "Tommo, I swear to _God,_ if you throw havoc and prevent Niall from studying– Wait," He suddenly starts. "What do you mean, we meet again?"  
  
Harry's frozen in place. _Tommo._  
  
The boy turns his head to look at Zayn. "Bumped into him in the toilets. What about it?" He asks curiously, tilting his head.  
  
Niall puts his textbook down, eyes filled with... Wonder? "Fucking fate." he mumbles. No one pays mind.  
  
Zayn raises a brow. "That's _Harry,_ Tommo."  
  
Louis quickly turns to look at Harry, eyes blinking. "Oh."  
  
Realisation downs on Harry.  
  
This is Tommo. This is the boy who he took shorts from. This is the boy who coloured Liam's entire wardrobe red. This is the boy who was called _'runny mouth'_. This is the boy who turned almost every boy in the school gay when he wore tight jeans. This is the boy who yelled across the cafeteria at Niall, mocking him. This is the boy everyone meet eventually. This is the boy who Liam punched in the jaw. This is the boy who Niall called his anger terrifying. This is the boy who bled out of his mouth, crying. This is the boy Harry splashed pee on. This is the boy who told him he's not the judging type. This is the boy Harry met in the toilets and talked with for good ten minutes without even knowing his name. This is the boy Harry watched score a goal. This is the boy Harry called art in his mind.  
  
He has never made a better comparison in his _life._  
  
The boy smiles the same smile. "Well, the world is small and this school is _definitely_ tiny." He reaches out a hand. "Louis Tomlinson."  
  
Louis Tomlinson.  
  
The name rings in Harry's head.  
  
Harry's mind is going a million miles an hour.  
  
He takes the offered hand shakes it, smiling. "Harry Styles. Nice to _finally_ meet you."  
  
"Officially." Louis chuckles, then hangs his head with a sigh. "God I can't _believe_ I gave you advice about _myself."_  
  
If Harry feels Louis' hand have a small tremor in his own, he doesn't say a thing. He just holds it tighter, pulling a bit. "Can't back out on your words now!"  
  
Louis laughs, free and loud, before stifling it because _library._ "Guess I can't."  
  
Harry grins. "On that account, I didn't judge you." He lets go of Louis' hand. "The people who called you names are twats anyway."  
  
Louis raises both brows in an exaggerated manner, pulling out a chair, sitting down, never taking his eyes off Harry. "Says the boy who didn't even say 'dick'. So you _can_ swear."  
  
Harry gives a generous roll of his eyes. "Of course I can curse and swear. Niall over here thinks I can't, that's like thinking he's the only one who has a _dick."_  
  
Louis immediately buries his face in his elbow to stifle his laughter, eyes squeezed shut. Niall, however, bursts like fireworks.  
  
If they didn't have Zayn, they would've been kicked out.  
  


* * *

  
After a good twenty minutes, Niall is studying, Liam and Harry are helping him, Louis is continuously scolding him for no reason, and Zayn is on his phone.  
  
"Harry," Louis calls softly, and Harry turns to look at him. Louis points at Zayn who's standing by the window. "Did you know that he didn't shut up about you in the past two days?"  
  
Harry raises a brow. "Really?"  
  
Louis grins. It feels devilish. "Yup. I think he has a crush on you."  
  
Zayn slightly turns his head from where he's standing next to the window to glare at Louis. The glare goes ignored.  
  
"And I kept telling him that he should just go ahead and confess it to you," At this point, Harry knows Louis is messing with him, but he plays along. "But I think he doesn't have the guts to do it. So, you know, treat him right?"  
  
Louis says it all in a tune that anyone would believe, even Harry, but Harry sees the way his eyes glint in mirth.  
  
He nods anyway. "Okay, but. You can't just spoil it like this."  
  
Louis frowns. "Like what?"  
  
Harry shuffles closer to Louis, so he can mumble it in his ear for the effect. He keeps his eyes on Zayn, who's listening to their conversation more than his own conversation with his mum. "See, if I'm gonna cheat on you, you can't know about it. Why are you goading me into cheating on you?" He frowns. "Are you cheating on me?"  
  
Both Louis' brows are raised now. "What–"  
  
Harry bites his lip, looking at Louis straight in the eye, using his _The Kicked Puppy look_ (or so Gemma calls it) on him. "Is Niall that good, baby? That good that you let me go and choose him???" He asks in a strained voice.  
  
He hears Liam choke on something. Zayn snickers.  
  
Louis blinks a few times, gaping, then he looks around dramatically, as if not believing this is real. Then he looks back at Harry, then at Niall. "Nialler, you've found a monster."  
  
Niall chuckles, shaking his head while trying to memorise a formula.  
  
Harry isn't done. "I knew it's Niall." He almost chokes on a fake sob. "But you didn't have to do this babe, you could've just told me. I would've left. Did you hate me that much that you wanted to hook me up, watch someone else's hands on me? Watch his lips on mine? Tell me, Lou, did you want to hear me scream–"  
  
"Fuck, _stop!!!_ " Louis wheezes, slapping a hand against Harry's mouth. He looks horrified. "Harry what the fuck. _What the fuck_."  
  
Harry grins in Louis' hand. Liam is hiding his face in Niall's shoulder, while Niall is hiding his own in his textbook, snickering. Zayn is not even talking in the phone anymore, he's just listening with a hand over his mouth to stop his laughter.  
  
"Who _the_ _fuck–_ " Louis starts again, hanging his head. "God, I _get_ it, I'm sorry, you didn't fall for it. Who _is_ this kid, Niall, why did you _do this_ to me?" He asks in a pleading voice, which only makes Niall struggle to hold his laugh harder.  
  
Harry figures that he _haven't_ had enough. He removes Louis' hand from his mouth. "Lou, baby, please. Why are you pretending that you don't know me–"

Louis looks absolutely _petrified._  
  
Suddenly, he's hugging Harry to his chest, a hand running through his curls, rocking them back and forth. "Fuck, Harry, _fuck_ ," He mumbles, deciding on playing along. "Baby, I'm sorry, I'm not breaking up with you, why did you think I'm breaking up with you?"  
  
Harry can possibly hear Liam dying behind him. Niall's textbook falls on the ground. "Because you tried to hook me up with Zayn." Harry pitifully says into Louis' shoulder, and he feels a hiccup of laughter shake Louis against him. If he wasn't so deep in this, he would be on the floor.  
  
"No baby, no. I wasn't– I'm not– Fuck Harry why does this feel _like I'm really breaking up with you???"_  
  
Okay. Maybe Louis is _too_ good, maybe Harry's _too_ deep in his rule, but he feels like crying, even though he's laughing inside. "Because you _are_."  
  
"No no I'm _not,_ I'm sorry, I'm not." Louis' hand is comforting as it brushes his curls, and Harry possibly melts.

A few moments pass.

Zayn chokes on a laugh as he hangs up, using the windowpane for support.

That seems to kickstart more reactions. Harry laughs in Louis' shoulder, Niall falls off the chair, and Liam is somewhere under the table.

"What the fucking _fuck_ was this?" Louis wheezes in his ear.  
  
Harry nudges him with a finger in the ribs. Louis squeaks. "Your _terrible_ joke going _terribly_ wrong." He says softly.  
  
"Fuck you," Zayn is coughing next to the window. " _Fuck you,_ what the fuck was that, what the _fuck_."  
  
Niall is basically crying in his palms of hand in laughter, Liam is wheezing, and Louis is shaking in Harry's arms, laughing. Harry hides his chuckles in Louis' shoulder.  
  
"That," Liam manages between the wheezes after five minutes. "Was amazing."  
  
Niall is panting, head between his hands on the table. "I can't watch rom-com anymore. _Dammit,_ Harry, you nailed it."  
  
Harry grins. "Thanks."  
  
"Remind me to not acting-prank Harry _ever_ again." Louis says with his hand still playing with Harry's curls, his head resting against Harry's.  
  
Zayn plops down on a chair, looking both blessed out and troubled. Harry doesn't know how he manages that. "That's what you get for trying to mess with me."  
  
Liam sighs. "We're adopting Harry. I suddenly need him in my life."  
  
Harry giggles. Louis tugs a curl.  
  
Zayn nods. "But no, really, please don't leave, Harry. We've finally found Louis' anchor."  
  
Louis looks offended. "Hey, I'm _perfectly_ fine the way I am."  
  
Harry nuzzles his shoulder before anyone can say anything. "You are, Lou. Except that you suddenly decide hooking me and Zayn up is okay. When Zayn has a girlfriend."

Liam and Niall look up from a textbook. Louis sits straighter. Zayn looks at Harry with shock all across his face.  
  
"What girlfriend? How do you know?" Liam asks, frowning. Harry smiles, content and smug.  
  
He reaches out a hand towards Zayn, not moving from his content place in Louis' arms. Zayn eyes his hand sceptically. Harry softly tugs Zayn's collar down, revealing a red mark.  
  
"Hickey." He mumbles softly, then lets go of Zayn's collar to snuggle further in Louis' arms. "Next time, check yourself in the mirror before walking out."  
  
"How–" Zayn starts, shocked. Liam looks hurt a bit. Niall is pouting.  
  
"Why didn't you tell us?" Louis asks softly, and Zahn shrugs, looking down.  
  
"I wasn't sure if it's serious or not, so..." Then he chuckles softly. "But if she left a _mark,_ then..."  
  
Harry feels sleepy. It is late, and he _did_ ask his mum if he could stay in the school longer. They all had permission, since the school stayed open for the basketball club until a bit after seven. More than anything, his mum was happy he has friends to stay with.  
  
"Put work on it too," Harry mutters sleepily. "It's a clean mark."  
  
Zayn blushes, and Niall pats Zayn's back while Liam gives him a hug. Louis giggles, tightening his arms around Harry. "How many?" He whispers in Harry's ear. Harry smiles. Somehow, he doesn't need Louis to elaborate.  
  
"Not more than two. Nothing serious." He whispers back.  
  
Louis tugs another curl.

Liam runs a hand through his own messy hair. "Can't believe he _saw_ that. How?"  
  
Harry shrugs. "When someone keeps giving you death glares for solid twenty minutes, and turns his head to look away every time you catch them glaring at you, you eventually pick up on the little red mark under their collar. Also, he kept scratching that."  
  
Louis whistles softly. "We're _definitely_ keeping Harry, then."  
  
They all chuckle, and Harry smiles, closing his eyes. It feels a bit too good to be true, but he's willing to live this dream as long as it lasts.  
  
Louis' hand doesn't stop brushing his curls for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you can't complain.
> 
> Also, yes, that happened.


	7. Driving Us Insane, Literally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Louis is a horrible driver, Harry doesn't want to be Bella, and deep talk happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Louis Tomlinson's driving skills.

For some odd reason, Louis insisted to drive Harry home.  
  
"But I can walk." Harry insisted.  
  
"no. Too dangerous. Also, dark."  
  
"I can call Gemma. She'll come and pick me up."  
  
"And what kind of gentleman would I be, if I bothered a lady this late?"  
  
"But–"  
  
"No. Get in the car, Harry."  
  
And so, here they are.  
  
Harry's eventually coming to a horrifying realisation that if he's walked home, with three kidnappers keeping close tabs on him, he'd be safer.  
  
Because Louis... was almost killing them any moment.  
  
"Louis watch out!"  
  
"Aw come on, Harold, it's fi–"  
  
" _LOUIS!_ "  
  
"Christ, Harry, calm down, we're not dying."  
  
" _We_ are not! _That_ poor man definitely was!"  
  
"No he wasn't. Besides, his fault! Why would you jump in the road like that?"  
  
"What does it _matter?_ They're not gonna blame _him_ when _you_ 've hit him– Louis! Christ, _your left!!!"_  
  
Louis, was one, _horrific_ driver.  
  
The car was screaming under his reign, as if it was put under agony at Louis' driving. The tires screeched on the asphalt every time he took a sharp turn. Harry grips the dashboard with one hand and the door with the other, back pressing into his seat as he tries to keep his eyes on the road instead of closing them. Because one of them has to keep their eyes on the road.  
  
Louis suddenly hits the breaks, and if Harry wasn't wearing seatbelts, he'd be on the asphalt by now.  
  
They both take a deep breath as the car stops, looking at the red light.  
  
Or, most probably, _Harry_ takes a deep breath. Louis looks fine.  
  
Harry's still gripping the dashboard.  
  
"So," He eventually asks, making Louis turn to look at him. "How do you do it?"  
  
Louis raises a brow. "Do what?"  
  
Harry shrugs, and shudders. "Oh y'know, cleaning the blood off the seats."  
  
It takes a moment for Louis to get Harry's point. Then, he gags. "Harry, _God,_ that's a disgusting image." Much to Harry's horror, the light turns green. Louis literally _kicks_ the pedal. "I've murdered no one in this car, they all got out safe. Wouldn't I be dead as well if that was the case?"  
  
Harry shrieks as Louis honks at another car. "For all I know, you could be a vampire."  
  
Louis laughs. Harry doesn't find anything funny. "You having a driving license is a crime." Harry is not exaggerating.  
  
Louis is silent.  
  
A few beats of silence pass.  
  
Harry turns to look at Louis so fast he almost gets a whiplash.  
  
"Please tell me you have a license." Harry begs.  
  
Louis shrugs, smiling. "I have a license."  
  
"No Louis, seriously–" His entire body trembles. "Please, _please_ tell me you have license."  
  
"Woah woah woah," Suddenly, the car slows down, probably turns, and eventually stops. Harry wouldn't know. He wonders why. He hears a clicking sound, and then his face is in Louis' hands.  
  
"Harry, come on, open your eyes, it's fine." Louis softly mumbles. Harry shakes his head.  
  
He hears Louis sigh. "Harry, it really is fine. I have a license. Will you open your eyes so I can show you?" He asks, and Harry gulps. Then, slowly, he opens his eyes.  
  
He hadn't realised how blue Louis' eyes are. probably.  
  
"Harry, love, your breathing is irregular." Louis calmly states, and Harry's just realised that, yes, it is. "Take a few deep breaths for me?"  
  
Harry nods, jerkily, and takes two, three deep breaths. Louis watches him do it, and then smiles.  
  
"There's a good lad." Louis beams, and who's Harry to deny him a smile back? No one.  
  
So he smiles at Louis.  
  
"Feeling better? Wanna see my license?" Louis asks, voice taking a hint of tease, tilting his head. Harry huffs out a small laugh.  
  
"Is it fake?" He asks, still a bit breathless, and Louis cackles.  
  
And it's not even _that_ funny. So there.  
  
"No it's not. It's quite real, since I worked so hard for it." Louis explains, slowly letting go of Harry's face.  
  
Harry smiles wider. "I'm pretty sure they took pity on you."  
  
Louis shrugs. "I did flutter my lashes here and there, so it might be that." He jokes, and gets back to his seat, putting his seatbelts on again.  
  
And Harry just realised that Louis has been almost in his lap. Trivia.  
  
He shrugs back. "Nah, if it was about being pretty, they would've given it to you the moment you walked in."  
  
Louis snorts. "Did you just call me pretty, Styles?"  
  
Harry chuckles, looking over at Louis, inspecting his face.  
  
And yeah, Louis _is_ pretty, alright.  
  
"I'm not blind, Tomlinson," Harry says. "I know a pretty face when I see one."  
  
Louis shakes his head, tutting, as he starts the car again, pulling out of his park. "A pretty face? What about my sparkling personality? What kind of guy you are, Harold?"  
  
Harry notices that Louis' driving much more carefully. "I don't know much about your personality, who am I to state a judgement? Not judging the book by the cover, but all I know now _is_ the cover."  
  
Louis smiles. "Well, trust the writer to tell you that, despite the pretty cover, all the pages are filled with something along the lines of ‘ _Dickhead_ ’."  
  
Harry hits him lightly in the shoulder, chuckling despite himself. "Be quiet, I'm supposed to be the judge, not you."  
  
Louis raises a brow. "Aren't I supposed to be the one who knows myself best?" He asks, incredulous.  
  
Harry gives him a thoughtful look. "One's judgment of themselves can be clouded. Some... think so high of themselves, some think so... low. We're all people, and we all... can be wrong. As much as another person's judgment of you might be wrong, there's a fair chance that... your judgement of yourself might be wrong as well."  
  
Harry suddenly stops. Realising he's blabbering, talking slow as he thinks, slower than usual, tripping over his words a bit. He holds his breath, waiting for Louis to say something about it.  
  
"That was... Deep."  
  
_Wait, what?_  
  
Harry looks over at Louis, who's frowning a bit in thought, and gapes.  
  
"That was just... me rambling. Nothing _deep_." Harry tries to reason, but Louis shakes his head.  
  
"Your rambling was deep. Maybe that's just your voice, but definitely added effect." He stares ahead, then chews at the corner of his lip. He looks like he wants to say something, so Harry smiles and waits.  
  
Finally, Louis speaks. "Let's say that you're right and what you said is correct." Harry hums. There's a pause. Harry's fingers start pulling at his lower lip. "What if," Louis starts. "Your judgement of me is wrong?"  
  
Harry's fingers stop moving, and it's like everything stops, even the connection between the neurons in his brain. His train of thoughts halts.  
  
It's not just the question. It's the way Louis sounds so... Serious and sincere. Like the whole deal really does matter to him.  
  
Harry's probably gonna say something dumb and make Louis think he's an idiot. He's gonna absolutely ridicule himself and be humiliated.  
  
_Well._ Screw that. He's saying it.  
  
"I think..." He starts, pausing to think the whole thing through. He tries again. "I think there's... a high possibility that my judgment of you... might turn out wrong." Louis hasn't said anything. Harry gives himself time to think.

_I think that it doesn't matter if you know about him or not, you wouldn't judge him._

His brain is coming up with stupid conclusions. He says them anyway. "So I guess it's a good thing that... I'm not planning on judging you."  
  
There's a long pause. Then,  
  
"What?"  
  
Louis sounds confused. His conversation with Harry nudges the back of his mind. _You just don't strike me as the judging type._  
  
Harry shrugs and dooms himself. "Your own words, Lou. I'm not gonna judge you. I'm not _supposed_ to judge you. This is... not a court and I'm not the judge. This is life, and it's getting to know people... and... and getting along, and standing your ground but not pushing anyone either... and it's all just... we're not here to judge anyone. I don't think so, at least." There's a small gap, then. "And neither do you."  
  
There's probably a way too long pause.  
  
Harry's fingers pull at his lip nervously, tugging, short nail scratching, digging into the soft skin of it. He looks out the window, at the lights and cars, and doesn't dare to look at Louis.  
  
"That's..." Louis mumbles. Harry waits. Louis clears his throat.  
  
"Remember what we talked about in the bathroom, yeah?" He suddenly asks, making Harry look at him. Harry nods. Louis must see it somehow, because he continues. "You were so worried about judging this guy before you even got the chance to meet him. And I kept thinking ‘What goes on it this kid's head?’. Because, honestly, why would anyone bother themselves so much, that they splash _pee_ on another person's _shoe–_ "  
  
Harry groans.  
  
"– _And_ over someone they hadn't even _met?_ What kind of thought process is this kid having? Is it about leaving an impression? Impressing the other person? Is it just them being a worrywart? Is it a silent seek for approval?"  
  
Louis huffs out a chuckle. "Back then I guessed. Now I know what it is."  
  
Harry gives him a questioning look. Louis smiles.  
  
"It's called, ‘Being Too Good’, Harry. Call me judgmental, making assumptions in less than a day about a guy who I don't know properly, _whatever,_ but it's not that hard to see: Harry, you're too good."  
  
Harry is rendered speechless.  
  
Louis takes a deep breath. "In a world this big, full of people who only care about themselves, you're just _too_ good, Harry."  
  
_And that's going to be death of me,_ he thinks. But he never says it. He merely steals a glance at Harry's wide, green eyes, his jade iris catching light, reflecting it in a thousand shades.  
  
"I'm not." Harry mumbles quietly.  
  
And that's that.  
  
Louis thinks that, he can already see the edge.  
  
He's still far, still has time to turn around, will have time to turn around, but...  
  
But he keeps walking.  
  
The edge just crawls closer.  
  
There's a few moments of silence. Louis breaks it. "So," he begins. "With all that deep talk, I assume you're fine now. I mean, you're not gripping my car like an octopus anymore, so."  
  
Harry looks like he's just realised it, and chuckles. "Yeah, you're driving much more sane now." A pause. There seems to be a lot of pauses when Harry talks. Part of Louis wants to snap. Another part, however, waits patiently until Harry's thoughts has ran their course.  
  
"If you can't do deep talk, we could always do small talk, though." Harry adds, and Louis shakes his head, smiling.  
  
"I enjoy deep talk." He counters. "Many people think small talk is the way to know people, and while I do think it makes a good start, it doesn't go, you know... _Deep_."  
  
Harry seems to find that amusing, because he laughs, loud yet short. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, as if to physically hold the laughter in, and... okay, maybe Louis should keep his eyes on the road.  
  
There's another beat of silence. Under normal circumstances, Louis would find the stretching silences a bit annoying and awkward. But Harry seems to just carry that air of silence around, so it's really not that weird. For someone as talkative as Louis, though, he feels like if they're not chattering, they're doing something _wrong._  
  
Obviously, Harry doesn't look at it that way.  
  
This time, Harry's the one who breaks the silence.  
  
"So," He says, shifting in his seat a bit. "Doesn't driving like this feel much safer? I mean, why would you make my life flash in front of my eyes when we could do it like _this_?"  
  
Louis opens his mouth to say something...  
  
Before he snaps it shut.  
  
A few moments pass, and then Louis groans, long and loud, and almost punches the steering wheel.  
  
"What?" Harry asks.  
  
"God, I _cannot_ –" Louis starts. "Can you _believe_ I almost pulled an Edward Cullen there?"  
  
There's another beats of silence before–  
  
Harry _bursts._  
  
His laugh is so loud and joyous, echoing in the small space of the car, that Louis starts laughing himself.  
  
"So you– You mean–" Harry wheezes the words out between his laugh, gripping the door for a completely different reason now. "You almost went ahead and said ‘This is so slow, and I'm bored’?"  
  
Louis laughs as they stop before another red light, and rests his head against the steering wheel, still groaning.  
  
"And we even _discussed_ me being a _vampire,_ holy shit." Louis exhales, almost huffing. Beside him, Harry is hiding his face in his hands.  
  
"My God, I even asked you about the _blood_." He wheezes, and this time, Louis does punch the steering wheel. Harry jumps a bit.  
  
"God _dammit,_ Harold, this entire ride has been leading up to _this._ Why did we remake that scene."  
  
"At least your hands weren't cold."  
  
"Good thing."  
  
There's another small beat of silence.  
  
"I hope you don't sneak in my room and watch me sleep." Harry suddenly says, blankly, with wide eyes staring ahead, hands still covering his face a bit.  
  
Louis bursts. He'd probably appear in Harry's bedroom one weekend in the morning, before he's up, just to freak him out.  
  
For now, though, he drives Harry home. At least he'll have the address for his well-thought-out plan.

**Author's Note:**

> Then again, any and all feedback is much appreciated!
> 
> ML x


End file.
